Love is not Love
by theyorker
Summary: Tragic romance set in Meiji Era. Mamoru is besotted with his neighbor and childhood sweetheart Usagi, but Mamoru's father separates the two. Mamoru turns to alcohol and women as Usagi marries a welathy widower. Then he returns to her doorstep...
1. Preface

Preface

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They say we hurt most the ones who love us. Not wittingly, just, by accident. 

Mine is a story similar to that. Well, I suppose mine was not an accident, but you'll see what I mean. 

Let me introduce myself properly before we begin this journey-- my father, a lawyer by trade, one in which I also find myself, would be appalled with me for not having done so already. He would bow crisply and utter his name like a command. Almost like a bark, but not to intimidate; he has always been brief by nature, though I never acquired that particular habit.

I am Chiba Mamoru esquire, second son of Chiba Itoku esquire. 

Titles never did sit well with me. Esquire. It exudes a sort of self importance that doesn't sit well with my current image--no, there are many titles that would suit my current aesthetic: drunkard, blackguard, lush.

No, lush is too evocative, too feminine to describe me. Lush is the sway of the geisha's robe as she pours sake. Lush is the smell of Hino Rei's perfume. Lush is the texture of Sazaki Usagi's hair. 

-  
Author's Note: Hello and welcome. 

I don't like having too much exposition related details in the author's note, so I won't. This is the preface, and I promise a longer first chapter.

I am looking for a beta, just to proof initially, and as time progresses (my muse dries up) help in a wider capacity… I am not to demanding as far as time goes, just a few minutes here and there before a new chapter gets published. 


	2. Chapter 1

"Chiba-san! Chiba-san! Please wake up, sir. Get some water, how long has he been here"  
"I do not know. Above three days. He has been in and out"  
"And you did not take the wine from him"  
"It was not my decision to make. Anyway, you should know better than to attempt such with him"  
"Please help me to revive him, I have urgent news from the estate."

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"What is it? Who sent you to bother me? My ever concerned father?" I ask, half groaning because of the bright morning light filtering in through the parted door of Rei's quarters. 

As my eyes adjust to the changed atmosphere I feel a glass forced to my lips as Rei tips my head. One lesson my father taught me when I was young, was to always choose my battles. As a lawyer, this little adage, no doubt, has served him well through the years. After a moments hesitation I decide the accept the bitter herb water, meant to expedite my recovery from the hangover. 

Only after the dizzying waves begin to subside do I notice Tsuneo, one of the household servants, trembling. 

"Well, out with it. What is so urgent that my father would send you to Shinjuku"  
"About that sir, your most honorable and noble father"  
At this I cannot help but scoff, which earns a sharp look from Rei.  
"…has passed away. This morning. The doctor Ichiro believes it to have been a stroke. He believes your venerable father suffered little"  
"Stop with the praises, my father was a dragon." I interject, but Tsuneo continues talking as though he did not hear me,  
"Your brother and mother wish you to return quickly to the estate.

So this is it? I've spent years what the day of my father's departure from the mortal realm would be like. I imagined all sorts of scenarios-- being called to my dying father's bedside as he bequeathed his worldly possessions or receiving a letter while away on business telling me of some tragic encounter between my father and the petty criminal he had helped put away. Regardless, none of this flights of fancy involved my current state of affairs. Me, the sophisticated, foreign educated, second son of one of the most illustrious barristers in Tokyo being found penniless, dependent on the kindness of a geisha, in Tokyo's flower district.

Had I had the time, I would have laughed at this. 

Then again, at the time of those daydreams I had not lost my naive optimism and believed Usako's letterhead would read Mr. and Mrs. Chiba Mamoru, not Mr. and Mrs. Takagawa Issao.

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Thanks to all who reviewed. The title "Love is not Love" is drawn from one of my great inspirations, Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 and from King Lear 1.1.242. Both lines I believe illuminate different sides of the same theme, which is integral to the story I am about to tell.

I know this is short, and had I good excuse to offer, I would, but I have none. I have the problem of knowing what I would like to write, but not how to write it. But I promise the next two chapters will provide the background between Usagi and Mamoru. Alas for Rei fans, she remains only a supporting character in this novella.

I am going to experiment with this a little in the narration. As you can see, for the present it is in Mamoru's perspective, but to set up the expositionary details I will probably use a more passive voice, which I will again evoke for the conclusion. 

But of course, this is all subject to change. 


	3. Chapter 2

_Seven months ago..._

_"Hinata-chan, Hinata-chan!" The call reverberated through the rice-paper walls._

_In the other room Chiba Hinata looked up from the letter currently in her lap and rose to her feet._

_"Ugh, 'Hinata-chan, sweet rice cake for you!'" Masara trilled, batting her eyelashes in mimicry. "Mother, how many times will that incessant woman keep bothering us! And an actress no less. Bringing rice cakes as her excuse…"_

_Chiba Hinata tutted rose to her feet, ignoring the comments of her eldest son's wife. Sliding the thin barrier open she went to greet her neighbor._

_"Iluko, wonderful timing. You'll never guess who I just received a letter from!"_

_"Oh, I know, it must be old Morimoto-san!"_

_"Silly! No, my Mamoru has sent a letter! He writes that he has completed his studies and will be returning home within the fortnight!"_

_"Really, Hinata-chan!"_

_"Only the Gods know how long I have been waiting for him to return home. How many years has it been since he was sent away to school? Six? No, seven." Hinata blinked away tears the tears that were threatening to fall. "After all these years abroad, he must now be a man, no longer a boy."_

_"Oh, Hinata-chan, the only Mamoru I remember was the little boy who would run up to my house, and peep around the door and ask…"_

_"Is Usa here?" Hinata finshed. The two women laughed, remembering better times._

_"You know Iluko, when I couldn't find Mamoru I would send Usa to find him."_

_"Yes," Megumi interrupted, "And always in the cherry tree orchard. Oh, how many hours the two of them spent in there in there own world. And the day Mamoru left for England, how Usa chased after the carriage like a madman! Burning her feet on the gravel… Oh I must go home and tell Usa the good news!"_

_"Yes, yes, of course!"_

_Iluko Tsukino quickly took leave of the Chiba mansion with a smile on her lips and memories of her daughter and Mamoru in her head._

_"Look at her. Always in act. It's your son coming home mother, and she is the happier for it." Masara snidely noted, coming to stand behind her mother in law._

_"Quiet. She is our neighbor. Ever since their childhood, Mamo and Usa have been inseparable."_

_---_

_The sound made by the footfall of his patent leather shoes barely reached his ears as Chiba Mamoru deliberately made his way down the stone stairs of the Tsukino bungalow, replaying the altercation in his mind._

"It's been a long time, Usa."

"Yes, it has. And you only had the time to write me four letters."

"I was busy at school Usa. London is a big city, I wrote when I could. Won't you at least turn around and look at me?"

"Do you know how many seasons have passed? Four seasons in seven years. Twenty-eight, you could have at least wrote me once a season. Would that have been too much to ask?"

"Well, I am here now. Turn around so I can see you."

"No, not now. You made me wait for your letters; you can wait to see my face. Just as when one sees the full moon after years, I would leave you breathless."

"Ha! Even the moon is not so vain."

"No, the moon is scarred."

"Fine, spare until moonrise, that which leaves me breathless: the moon's radiance or your vanity?"

_Till moonrise he thought, quickening his pace, till moonrise._


End file.
